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16For out of thee, ſhall people riſe,
with divers happineſs;
And yet a pen can ſcarcely write,
thy hurt, ſkaith, and diſtreſs.
17And yet beware thou not diſtruſt,
altho' o'erwhelm'd with grief,
Thy ſtroke is not perpetual,
for thou ſhalt find relief.
18I do ſuppoſe, although too late,
old prophecies ſhall hold;
Ever hope that in God's goodneſs,
and mercies manifold.
19For thou that now a patient is,
and ſeemeth to be bound;
At liberty ſhall free be ſet,
with empire be renown'd.
20From high above ſhall grace come down,
and thy ſtate Scotland be,
In latter ends more proſperous,
nor former age doth ſee.
21Old prophecies foretel to thee,
a warlike Heir he's born,
Who ſhall recover new his right,
advance his kingdom's horn.
22Then ſhall the Scots ſword ſweat with blood
and ſlaughter which they make,
The King himſelf revenge her ſhall,
the guilty troops down-wreck.
23The Engliſh nation ſhall invade,
but not eſcape a plague,
With ſword with thirſt, with tears and peſt,
with fears and ſuch like ague.
